A Million Memories
by xGlowingAngelx
Summary: He promised himself he'd never open that drawer, but he broke the promise.  Craig/John Paul. Complete


**A/N:** Don't ask what this is, I havent the faintest. I just figured we needed a cardigan fic, and this was the best I could do. It was ten minute job and it's not very good becuase I havent really focused on it much. but yeh...

**A Million Memories**

The Monday morning rush had started exceptionally early on the cold winter morning that was today. John Paul McQueen had woken up early to use the bathroom before the usual manic started with his sisters, but they'd beaten him to it this morning and were now pushing one another out of the way to have their showers first. With a frustrated sigh, John Paul sloped back to his bedroom and pulled a striped jumper from his wardrobe. He laid it on his bed and took a glance at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale from the winter weather and his eyes were a shadow of their usual self. He ran his fingers through his hair and gently rubbed his temples, desperate to shake off the pounding headache that he had inflicted upon himself the previous night.

Hearing a knock on his bedroom door, he swung around. 'come in' he replied and watched as his mother walked in, a cup of steaming coffee n her hands. 'Thought you might need this' she smiled, handing him the coffee and watching as he settled it on his bedside table to cool down. 'Thanks Mum. By the way, have you seen my belt? I cant find it'

'Have you tried your bottom drawer love? I know you have a habit of putting things there and forgetting about them' she laughed. John Paul smiled and walked towards the drawers his mother was talking about. He knelt down and pulled open the bottom one, his breath catching slightly as he saw it. 'Are you OK, love? You look pale' Myra asked, a motherly concern in her voice. Snapping from his thoughts, John Paul looked at her and let out a weak smile. 'Yeh... I think so' he said.

Myra stood up and walked to where her son was, glancing in the drawer. Realising what he was gazing at, she reached in and pulled the woollen cardigan from where it lay. John Paul felt a tear roll down his cheek as he gently took it from her and sat on the edge of his bed, clutching it tightly.

'Is it...?'

John Paul nodded and smiled weakly, knowing full well who his mum meant. 'Yeh... yeh it is'

Myra smiled sadly and rested a comforting hand on her sons shoulder. John Paul felt tears well in his eyes, but choked them back, determined he wouldn't cry. They both sat in silence. John Paul trying to hold it together, Myra unsure of what to say. She stood up to leave the room, thinking he needed space, when she heard his voice, almost a whisper. 'It was the day after he left' he said.

Myra sat beside him again. 'Sorry?'

'I'd lay awake all night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. Walking away from me at the airport. Not looking back. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I could get through it. I wanted to take my mind off it, so I decided to spring clean' he heard Myra chuckle beside him - John Paul always did that when he needed to take his mind off something.

'I took my duvet off my bed, and I saw it. I thought I was seeing things at first, but I touched it, and it was real.' he held the cardigan close to his chest. 'I don't know how it got there - whether he'd left it accidentally or whether he'd put it there on purpose, like he knew he'd leave me behind. I sat on my bed for ages, clutching it. Letting his scent wash over me. Like he was there'

Myra smiled sadly, not entirely sure if she wanted to hear him talking like this. He was her baby, and it killed her that he'd been through this alone. 'Anyway,' John Paul continued 'I put it under my pillow. I'd check every morning and night that it was there. The scent of him would fill the room immediately and I'd feel safe again. I'd feel loved. I knew he wasn't there, but it felt like he was.'

'So you kept it the whole time?'

John Paul nodded. 'Sometimes I'd clutch it for hours, just wanting to feel like I was close to him.' He paused for a moment, as a gentle tear slipped down his cheek. 'One morning, I woke up and the first thing I did was clutch it. But it was different'

'How do you mean?' Myra asked. 'A different cardigan?'

'No. A different scent, It wasn't him I could smell any more. It was... well, I don't know what it was, but it wasn't familiar. I tried my hardest to get his scent back, but I couldn't. I couldnt figure out why something so cruel would happen. I considered throwing it away, but I couldn't bring myself too, so I put it in the drawer. Just so that I knew it was near.' He looked at Myra. 'I sound pathetic don't I?'

Myra shook her head. 'No. No you don't. You sound confused.' she paused for a minute, watching the blank look on John paul's face. 'You still love him, don't you?' she asked. When John Paul didn't reply, she turned his face to hers. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. 'I never stopped. I thought I had, but I realise now that I always loved him. I just managed to get on with my life.'

'You still can' Myra began, 'You're one of the strongest people I know. You've been through so much in such a short time, but you still came out the other end. And I admire you for that. But right now, you're filled with emotions and memories of what was and what could have been. I don't blame you for that. If anything I expect it.' she patted his knee gently and walked towards his bedroom door, not entirely sure what she should say next.

She took a final glance at her son, clutching the cardigan, gentle tears rolling down his cheek. 

'Do yourself a favour' she spoke, snapping John Paul from the daydream he was having and turning to look at her. 'Put the cardigan away. If you want, put it back in the drawer, and dont open that drawer again. Close that chapter of your life. And if you can't do it for yourself. Do it for me. Just close the drawer and dont look back' and with that, she left him alone.

Slumped on his bed, John Paul pulled himself up and walked towards the drawer, still clutching the cardigan. he gently traced his fingers over it, a million memories filling him in just a second. He closed his eyes and let them all flash by. And when he snapped them open again, he put the cardigan back in the drawer and, with a deep breath, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach, he shut the drawer and he didn't look back. And even now, 5 months later he hadn't looked back. And he promised himself that, no matter what the future held, he wouldn't look back.


End file.
